


In 60 Seconds

by FruitofSorrow



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Asgardian magic that I made up, Big Steve, I had an idea and it turned into something else, I took a lot of liberties okay?, M/M, Sexual Content, Smut, maybe some fluff, mostly Winter Soldier with mentions of Bucky, pre-serum steve, some violence, this is mostly smut guys, time travel?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-29 20:18:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15080930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FruitofSorrow/pseuds/FruitofSorrow
Summary: 60 seconds is all it takes for the Winter Soldier to be transported to a remote location, and to revisit a memory he doesn't exactly remember. A moment his former self shared with a man who looks just like Captain America...but isn't. Who is this man? Why is the Soldier so drawn to him? And why does he keep calling him Bucky?Basically the Winter Soldier can't find it in him to hurt Steve Rogers, as much as his programming might try to, but when he does, Steve won't fight him back.





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I made up that Asgardian artifact. The Asgardian can be whoever you want it to be. Go wild.

**1943**

 

  
The Soldier didn’t know how it happened.

One moment he was on the bridge, fighting the Captain––the man he thought he recognized from a lifetime ago–– and in the next, an Asgardian God was falling from the sky, fumbling with an ancient artifact that slipped through his fingers and fell to the concrete below, bursting into frenzied beams of white light from the impact.

Now he was here, in a rundown apartment with brown shiplap walls peeking underneath tattered floral wallpaper, and a spotted beige carpet that might have at some point been cream in color.

The Soldier reached for the gun fixed on his back and felt nothing.

He checked the hidden sheathe on his leg, breathing out with relief as he felt the cool, ridged texture of a metallic handle at his fingertips. At least he had his knife with him.

Whatever sorcery the Asgardian had done, it didn’t seem to have accomplished much besides relocate him to what could be a third world country. There wasn’t anything in the room to help him identify where that might be exactly, but in the back of his mind, his stark surroundings looked familiar.

He moved towards the entrance of the small studio apartment, unconcerned with being ambushed in such a small space. He hadn’t heard anyone in the house, and with one sweep of his gaze he confirmed he was alone.

There was a fire stove in one corner of the room, closest to the small kitchen consisting of an antiquated sink, and counters with matching blue cabinets overhead. The pots and pans hanging from their racks on the tiled backsplash were stained and beginning to rust over.

The Soldier turned his head to the opposite wall. The bathroom there was no bigger than a small closet with a toilet and small bathtub. No sink. There wasn’t even a window.  
Next, the Soldier swept his gaze over the living space, taking in the sight of a twin mattress on the floor, the wool blankets messily undone and falling to the carpet. There was no couch, only an old wooden armchair with the backrest missing a few rods, overlooking the one window in the entire place.

Judging by the poor state of his surroundings, he concluded a man must live here. Alone.

Not that it mattered. He wasn’t here for reconnaissance. He needed to get back to base, but first he had to figure out how to do that.

With a frustrated huff, he decided he wouldn’t find any answers here.

Just as he was headed for the door, the sound of keys and the knob turning had him taking a defensive stance, and his hand flew to his knife.  
The door was pushed open and a small, blond boy emerged from the still darkness outside.

He didn’t see the Soldier at first. The room was barely lit by the moon’s glow, and if it weren’t for his enhanced vision, the Soldier might not have seen the boy either.  
The boy turned on a lamp by the armchair, and then the room was inundated by a warm, yellow glow. Like candlelight.

The Soldier’s eyes adjusted to the new brightness in the room, and then they widened.

The boy––no, man’s––eyes widened back.

“Bucky?” gasped the blond man, inspecting him with clear, blue eyes. “What are you doing here? I thought––’

The Soldier didn’t know what to do. How to answer.

Before him stood the man on the bridge, or a man that had his face. This man was too short and skinny to be the famous Captain he’d heard so much about from inadvertently eavesdropping on Pierce’s conversations, let alone be the Captain who had held his own against him earlier in the day.

“Captain,” the Soldier said, but the word came out with the pitched tinge of a question.

The blond man’s brows creased. “Don’t tell me they promoted you already?” He bemoaned, lips turned downward. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re exactly the type of soldier the army was hoping to recruit.”

This last bit was said with a frailty in his tone––a palpable bitterness.

 _Promoted?_ The Soldier hadn’t been promoted. And what army?

The Soldier watched the man as he removed his coat and kicked off his shoes. His guard was lowered completely. Anybody with ill intentions towards him could have easily stuck him with a blade, or pummeled him to the ground before he even got the first shoe off. Someone like the Soldier.

Inexplicable anger surged through him.

_What an idiot._

Before he could think of doing anything as inconceivable as reproach him, a thought flitted through the Soldier’s mind, and a startling fear arose in the pit of his stomach.

What was with the man’s nonchalance? This blasé attitude with which he regarded the Winter Soldier? Was….was this man playing tricks on him? Was he trying to confuse him?

Pierce and the men of Hydra had warned him the Captain might try to appeal to his trust––get the Soldier to question his loyalties. It only made sense.

Hand to hand, the Soldier and Captain were evenly matched. The only way either might be able to take the other down would be to introduce an element of surprise. Attack him where he wouldn’t expect it. The Captain, and the organization he worked for, S.H.I.E.L.D, were zealots capable of any dirty trick in the book to fortify their cause. Even if it meant snatching the Winter Soldier for themselves.

For that alone they needed to be eliminated.

Without further pause, the Soldier lunged forward, pushed the small man down so that he fell on the mattress, and pressed the edge of his knife against the smooth, pale neck.

“B-Buck?” the man said, with a wheeze. “What the fu––”

The Soldier pressed harder, drawing a shallow red line of blood.

“ _Who_ are you? Where am I?” The Soldier growled.

The blond man struggled for breath, pushing up against the Soldier, and raising a knee to create a distance between their bodies.

“It’s me. Steve. Buck, what––what is going on?”

The Soldier drew back his weapon slightly, allowing the man to speak with more ease.

“You’re supposed to be abroad.” He coughed.

The Soldier regarded him with wild eyes. “ _Who are you_?” He repeated.

The man––Steve––shut up. He looked into the Soldier’s eyes, penetrating them with his own baby blues.

Those eyes, the Soldier thought, feeling light-headed. I’ve seen them before.

“I’m your best friend, Buck. Your best guy. Your––” He cut himself short.

“My _what_?”

The Soldier leaned forward, shaking with long-contained rage. And something else.

The man choked out an incredulous laugh, letting himself sink into the mattress––pliant. He turned away. “I see how this is,” he said, a renewed fire in his eyes. “This one of your stupid jokes, isn’t it? You could have warned me you were coming. This isn’t how I remember––”

The Soldier stopped listening. He was confused as ever, but schooled his expression. Why was this man speaking so familiarly with him, and why wasn’t he trying to throttle his pretty neck for even daring to? Had this been anyone else––any other time––the Soldier wouldn't have let them speak so much.

Without warning, the blond man wrapped a leg around his knee and turned them over.

Distracted by the ludicrous idea of such a small person having the strength to do that, and being astonished that it happened all at once, the Soldier didn’t realize his anger had dissipated. Wonder coursed through him instead––collecting at his fingertips. He wanted to touch the other man. Feel the thinness of his arms. The brittleness in his bones. How was it possible for there to be such strength in that fragile body?

“Your hair’s grown long,” the man said, carding his fingers through the Soldier’s brown locks. “I kind of like it.”

The Soldier remained still. Why wasn’t he pushing the man off?

He leaned in close, his warm breath hitting the Soldier’s face. “I bet they gave you that promotion and this leave of absence for being such a competent soldier. Did you kill lots of Nazis? Or did ya save a hundred men? What good deeds have you performed since you’ve been away?”

He leaned in closer still, his mouth hovering over the Soldier’s dry lips.

“Or did you suck the Colonel’s dick? Huh? I bet you did. You have such pretty lips.”

The Captain, no, the man’s voice was reverberating deep in his throat like a purr. Content and aroused.

The Soldier wanted to glance at his Adam’s apple, to see for himself how it must be bobbing up and down with the low sounds he produced, but all he could see were the soft lips that opened and closed so near his own. He was entranced by them.

They quirked up.

“Not fessing up, I guess,” the man said, pushing himself back up so he was straddling the Soldier’s stomach. “Then I’ll have to draw a confession out of you.”

The small man ran his hands down the Soldier’s chest, passing over each button of his uniform with one hand, and feeling the tense muscles underneath with the other.  
The man’s eyes lit up appreciatively. “You’re bigger than I remember.”

The Soldier swallowed the lump in his throat.

He knew he should push the man away and plunge his knife back into that tantalizing neck, but it’d been so long since he’d had the desire to feel a body pressed so close to his own. When had been the last time he indulged in such pleasures? He couldn’t remember. Was it...Russia?

Flashes of violent and silky reds danced across his mind. A young girl––barely turned a woman––with robust curves and soft skin. Deadly.

_Russia it was._

“I wonder what else has gotten big.”

Steve scooted down on the Soldier’s body. His thin, deft fingers inching toward his belt, then pausing at the buckle and tracing the Hydra insignia there before undoing the clasp.

The Soldier’s breath caught in his throat as the zipper of his pants was tugged down and a warm hand played with the elastic of his underwear.

Steve threw him a mischievous look, teeth gnawing contemplatively on his lower lip.

“I can already feel how excited you are for me,” he purred, pressing down lightly on the tent in his pants.

The Soldier let out an involuntary growl.

The wannabe Captain chuckled softly.

Without further ado, the hand on his waistband slipped underneath the fabric to cup the Soldier’s straining erection.

He lifted his hips off the mattress, and the blond took the hint to drag the fabric down to his thighs.

Both hands were on his dick now, holding him firmly as they moved up and down the long shaft.

The man shifted on the Soldier’s legs, pressing down his own lower body to create friction against the rough fabric. His hips rocked back slightly as he pumped the Soldier eagerly.

The Soldier’s eyes fluttered closed, his jaw tensed, and his eyebrows creased from pleasure. He was trying so hard to not make a sound, but one expert twist of the blond man’s hands drew a strained moan from his lips. The sound of his own voice caused ripples to quake through his body.

Above him, he felt the man’s rhythm stutter too, a low moan slipping from his lips as well.

The Soldier couldn’t take it. He needed more.

He reached for his own dick, wanting to double the pressure on himself–– to dictate his own rhythm, but the other pushed him away.

Before he could protest, the blond stopped his movements, climbed off him, and leaned down to blow warm breath on his hardness.

The Soldier trembled.

“Fuck,” the man murmured, his hand going down to tease his own erection. “The things I want you to do to me…”

The Soldier was close. _So close_.

He had barely been touched, but years of celibacy, and of not relishing in the warmth of another’s skin had made him desperate. He wanted release. Finally. After all that time.

The man smirked at him, hand lowering to play with one of the Soldier’s balls. Kneading gently.

“I know you want to come, but I’m not going to let you until I’ve gotten my mouth on you.”

The Soldier moaned despite himself.

He hated this. Hated that he was so easily at the mercy of someone else. His enemy, no less. A man he should be torturing instead of trying to fornicate with. The Soldier was weak, he knew it. So much that it almost had him crying out in anger.

“Then get to it,” he growled, willing to give the man a chance. Just one. If he didn’t comply, he’d have to push that blond head down himself.

The mere thought of forcing those plush lips on him made his blood bubble with anticipation.

Unfortunately, before he had a chance to act out his will, the man lowered his pink, parted lips to take the tip of his dick into his mouth. Laving at it almost lovingly.

The Soldier’s metal hand weaved itself into the man’s blond tresses, pulling gently for the other man to take more of him inside his mouth.

The man resisted only momentarily, before exhaling warm air through his nose, and pushing all the way down to the wiry base of the Soldier’s crotch.

It was quick descent to madness thereafter.

The man––the Captain––worked his tongue expertly, sucking with just the right vigor, and adding the perfect amount of pressure with his hands where he couldn’t reach, when breathing became difficult, and the weaker man couldn’t take all of him in his mouth anymore.

The Soldier was a writhing mess below him. The metal hand still on the blond hair, tangled, but limp, and the other clenched by his side, planting crescent moons on the fleshy palm with his nails.

He felt his orgasm building up, ready to burst. He considered pulling the lips on him away, but decided he wouldn’t care too much for the other man’s discomfort. The only pleasure that concerned him was his own.

The man sensed his climax anyway, slowly releasing him with a pop. He gripped the Soldier’s flesh with both hands again, moving up and down with a desperate verve, and a crooked smile on his satisfied lips.

“Come for me, Buck. Come. Let’s––let’s do it together, ‘kay?”

Neither Soldier nor Captain had touched the smaller man in a while, and the Soldier found it impressive that with so little attention to his own body, the blond man could arrive at the same height of pleasure as if it had been his dick in the Soldier’s mouth instead.

What did that mean? The Soldier wondered.

He groaned as the blond man did an especially unique tug with his hands.

Did the small man get off on giving others pleasure? Or did that apply only when it concerned this man, Bucky? What could drive such an intense response as that? What did this small man and this _Bucky_ character have together that even just the sight of the other sent shockwaves coursing through their bodies?

Were they psychically linked? Could they imagine, feel every touch and sensual ministration between them before it even happened?

“I’m coming, Buck,” warned the small Captain, breathless.

The pressure on the Soldier’s dick heightened. It almost hurt, to have this much of a good thing. A selfish thing. He was nearly bursting at the seams with selfishness.

Later he’d have to punish himself for letting himself get carried away, but for now, all he cared about was his release.

After a few more tugs and twists, they both came with a guttural moan slipping from their lips, an almost evangelical sound that melded into the chorus of crickets outside.

The captain rolled away to grab a rag from a small box beside the mattress, before coming back to wipe them both down.

The Soldier stayed still, catching his breath.

The air was chilly now. The room poorly insulated. But the Soldier had worked himself up to a moderate heat and really didn’t mind.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” the blond man said. “You still have to repay the favor.”

The Soldier’s brows turned down at that.

Return the favor? No, that wasn’t in the Soldier’s plan.

He was going to get dressed and get the fuck out. Find the nearest Hydra base. Submit himself for disciplinary action.

He started to sit, but a scarcely clothed Captain straddled him again, and pushed him back down.

It was when the small man was fully seated that the Soldier realized he’d stripped down to his boxers.

_When the fuck?_

With a small twist of his bony hips, the Soldier was hard again.

“I was gonna ride you,” he said, nonchalant, and trailing a light finger down the curve of the Soldier’s jaw. “But I’ve been looking forward to feeling you in me again. Over me. Around me. _Everywhere_. Please?”

Then the small man pulled back to discard his shirt, revealing smooth, pale skin, and pert nipples. His frame was narrow and slim, but the Soldier wanted to finally feel the expanse of that body. See if he could find in it those muscles he had wondered about before.

He reached out steadily, smoothing his warm hand up the man’s small chest, feeling the baby smooth texture under his fingertips.

The Captain’s breath hitched as his large hand passed over one nipple.

Curious, the Soldier went over it again, locking eyes with the other man’s heated gaze as he circled two fingers around the rosy nub.

When the man over him released a shaky sigh, the Soldier proceeded to take the flesh between his fingers, and roll.

The Soldier thought the sounds the small man made were unreal and, wanting to hear more, brought his metal hand up to do the same to the other nub.  
The man’s moans elongated. He closed his eyes.

Wanting to know what other noises he’d make, the Soldier sat up, pushed the Captain to his back, and replaced his flesh hand with the heat of his lips.  
This action drew the largest moan out of the Captain yet.

“ _God,_ Buck. D-don’t stop.”

The encouragement filled him with purpose. He had a need to show this man what he could do. That he could do a good job at this like he did with killing. He was starting to see how the two were alike. The power. The control. He liked this feeling. Of having a body underneath him, and having the skill required to reduce it to a wailing, supplicating mess. He just needed to hear it. Hear the small Captain beg for it, like his targets would so often beg for their lives, only to be denied at the last second.

He pulled away, and the small man groaned with disappointment.

“What do you want?” The Soldier said, eyes burning into the small man’s lusty gaze.

“B-Buck, I––” The man moaned, as his hips gyrated against the Soldier’s thighs, desperate. “Please, inside me, I can’t––”

It wasn’t long until both were completely naked and the Captain had stuffed himself with two of his own fingers, and then three.

The Soldier watched patiently, deciding he wanted to draw out the moment for as long as was necessary to have the small man begging to be touched.

He looked down to see where the man’s bony fingers disappeared into the stretched out skin of his hole. Plunging in and out with a wet sound like auditory sin.

More blood rushed down to the Soldier’s groin.

He was eager to touch the flushed skin before him, but self-restraint––his old friend––beckoned him to be patient. Just a bit more.

When the small Captain had all but fisted himself, and was shaking with tremors of pleasure, the Soldier put an end to his agony.

His metal fingers moved up the blond man’s thighs, leaving a cool trail behind them that made the man below shiver in anticipation. The Soldier’s lips traced the same path, leaving warmth behind where before there was none.

The Captain spread his legs farther, inviting the Soldier to nestle closer to the spot where he longed most to be touched.

With his flesh hand, the Soldier helped remove the slick digits obstructing his target, and quickly licked a stripe across the gaping hole.

The blond man gasped, arching his back off the mattress. “O-oh.”

  
Spurred on by the small, needy noises dripping from the Captain’s mouth, the Soldier pulled away and took himself in one hand to smother his aching dick with whatever lubricant the small man had tossed at him earlier. _As long as the stuff works_.

“Come on, Buck,” the man whined. “ _Please, please, please_.”

The Soldier soaked in the sight of the man writhing beneath his unyielding weight. Sweat had beaded up on his skin, matting the hair down on his forehead, and making the flushed skin of his chest glisten in the moon’s glow. His two blue eyes, framed by long lashes, were fluttering like butterfly wings in the wind––struggling to stay open.

Then he followed the soft contours of the man’s neck and torso, all the way down to the bony hips and then darted to the aroused weight between his legs.

Unceremoniously, the Soldier spread the man wider, taking himself in hand and pushing into the softly stretched pucker of the small Captain’s ass.

The man moaned beautifully, the melodious sound clashing with the Soldier’s staccato grunts.

He took the blond man by the thighs, and roughly pulled him flush against his skin.

 Slowly, he worked into a rhythm inside the tight, heated body.

He felt like he was on fire. Like the snow that had piled on the surface of his facade after so many years––his namesake––could actually melt and run like fresh spring water. It was a pathetic sentiment, the Soldier realized. He thrusted deeper, harder, to shake the notion out of his head.

While deep in the throes of passion, he didn’t realize his own eyes had closed.

“B-baby, please, I want it,” the Captain cried. His hands reached up to wind around the Soldier’s neck and pull him down to his lips.

It was the Soldier’s first kiss as far as he could remember. It was soft and not wholly unpleasant, but the Soldier knew the action was a frivolous one. Kisses were bonds of promise easily severed by disinterest and betrayal. Pointless, in the long run. So then why did he want more?

He swiped his tongue over the blond’s lower lip, lightly pressing into every crack of the soft flesh before asking for entrance at the seams.

They kissed in tandem with their thrusts, all tongue and teeth, with neither trying to gain the upper hand. The Soldier should have dominated him, he knew it’d be to his utmost pleasure to do so, but he relinquished that control in favor of letting himself be swept away. The blond man was smaller and weaker, but he fought like he was actually a muscled, two-hundred-and-forty pound man.

Killing off weaker prey was something the Soldier was used to, an equally pleasurable alternative, but there would never be an opportunity for him to relish in an act like this again. This wasn’t a mission. He didn’t have orders. No target to eliminate. If he didn’t take advantage now, then when?

The Soldier broke from the kiss to admire his work. The blond’s lips were a wet and vibrant red. If he had pressed against them only a little closer, they might have even bruised, turned purple. Meanwhile, his hands moved higher on the small Captain’s thighs to hike them up on his waist.

The man moaned deeply, turning his head to the side to expose his neck––the thin red line from before already starting to vanish. His hands roamed up the Soldier’s thick arms, fingers tracing every hardened muscle, only to grip them tightly when the Soldier hit a particularly sensitive spot.

The Soldier dipped his head to lave at the shallow cut on the man’s neck, and then nosed his way to the edge of his jaw to suck a bruise on the flesh below his ear.

“I’m close,” the blond man said with a stutter. “I’m gonna––”

The Soldier was close too. He could feel it, building up inside him, stronger than before. It was almost indescribable, he thought, the way the pressure welled up without going anywhere. It was like his body was a locked safe, and his release was trapped inside, waiting for someone––the Captain––to pick him open. To break him free.

“Come on,” the blond man chanted. “Come on, come on. Let go, baby. Fill me up.”

The Soldier increased the pace of his thrusts, leaning over the small body and planting his forearms on either side of the blond’s head. At this angle, he was able to piston into the greedy heat with more ease. Was able to better hit the spots deep inside that made the man shudder and cry.

With a chorus of moans, and broken nothings, the small Captain released first––shooting right onto his own stomach. The Soldier followed close behind, filling the small body up with his selfish fluids.

There was sweat everywhere.

Tangled limbs on exhausted frames, and accelerated heartbeats trying to come down from their high. The Soldier pried the weakened legs off him, and rolled on his back.

He’d get cleaned up and dressed in a minute, but there wasn’t any harm in taking a moment for himself first. To regroup and gather his wits.

The small man turned on his side, slinking a wiry arm across the Soldier’s firm chest.

“Buck,” he whispered, sounding absolutely wrecked. “That was amazing.”

The Soldier didn’t have a marker for skill in this capacity, and he was having a difficult time believing the tiny man would know much about that either, but something still swelled inside him at the words. It wasn’t like his victims could compliment him on the skill with which he murdered them, and his handlers weren’t exactly brimming with accolades either. He found he sort of liked it. The praise.

The Soldier said nothing.

“Hey,” the man said again, tapping his left pectoral with a sweaty finger. “I’m really glad you’re back. I––I’ve been wanting this for…you have no idea. How much I’ve missed you.”

Then he got up on one elbow and craned his neck to lean over the Soldier’s face. “You’re not planning on leaving soon, are you?” He said, a puff of breath hitting the Soldier’s forehead.

When the Soldier didn’t respond, the blond brows furrowed, a panic taking over the man’s features, and then his tone.

“Y-you’re not leaving tonight,” he demanded, voice shaking. “I won’t allow it.”

The small man’s narrow body draped over him, and his head buried in his neck. The Soldier felt completely enveloped.

“I finally got you back. You can’t leave,” the man murmured, voice hitching from the lack of strength needed to carry the weighted words. “Please say you’ll stay.”

The Soldier really didn’t have it in him to fight the small man. Not that it’d be much of a challenge. With one quick brush of his arm he could send him flying across the room and then be on his way, but that’s not what he wanted. Not if he was being honest with himself.

The Soldier sighed, resigned, the man on him moving with the gentle rise of his chest.

In turn, the thin arms around him tightened.

“Ok,” was all the Soldier said, voice rough from underuse.

Just a few hours then. He’d close his eyes for a short while and then sneak out in the middle of the night when the other man was fast asleep.

“I love you,” the Captain said, unexpectedly. The Soldier could hear a hint of a smile in his voice. He seemed appeased, but exhausted. Like he was on the verge of sleep. “I love you so much, Buck.”

 _Love_. It hit him like cold air.

What was love?

Was it the cause of the sudden aching in the Soldier’s chest? The sudden awareness of there being something in need of filling. A curse? A frivolous indulgence?  
As if the Soldier had need for such useless vanity. The less attachments in his life, the better. Pain, after all, came from loss, and he’d already lost so much.

“Don’t,” he croaked, hoping that the blond would heed his advice.

But the small man was fast asleep before he could hear it.

 

 

 


	2. II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Soldier and the imposter Captain wake up to a disconcerting surprise.
> 
> This part contains your typical dose of violence, sex, fluff, and angst. Yay.

** 2014 **

 

 

The Soldier awoke to the blinding light of morning peeking through the translucent skin of his lids––orange and warm. A hefty weight was pressed on top of him, digging into his ribs. He was a little sweaty, but otherwise felt pretty comfortable for having spent the night underneath such a large body.

_Large?_

The Soldier’s eyes snapped open, agitated, only to find a familiar set of hair fanned out against his clavicle. The dirty blond locks shined with the sunlight, appearing to be lighter than he remembered them the night before. 

But the weight on him...definitely wasn’t that of a 90-pound man, and this sent the Soldier into a fit of panic.

Wary, he tried to shove the body off, but it barely budged.

“Hmmm. Buck?” Came the man’s groggy voice. “What’s the matter?” 

A sudden kiss was pressed to his bare collarbone, and he flinched.

“Get off!” The Soldier growled, the anxiety that surged in him finally pouring out. He needed the man off.

The blond head shot up, blinking eyes still heavy. 

The Soldier’s heart hammered in his chest.

_No, this can’t be. This is another trick._

He’d gone to sleep with the small blond man on top of him, only to wake up under _Captain America_. The living hero. The man out of time. His mission.

The heavy weight suddenly made sense.

It took a few moments for the Captain to rouse to full awareness, but when he did, his bright eyes dimmed and smile faded with recognition upon seeing the man beside him.

He couldn’t have flown off the Soldier any faster if he had wings. 

“Y-you’re not––” The Captain squeaked, words stumbling clumsily out of his mouth as he tried to find purchase on the tattered wallpaper of the opposite wall. His eyes narrowed, speculative. “Wait, are you...Bucky?”

The Soldier shot to his feet as well, allowing the thin sheet to fall from his nude form. He stiffened. “No.”

The Captain––the real Captain–– shook his head, disbelievingly. “I’d recognize your face anywhere,” he asserted. Then his voice grew softer, eyes drifting to the Soldier’s prosthesis. “What did they do to you?”

The Soldier clenched the metal hand, the gears whirring and plates sliding into place. “I’ve been waiting a long time to take you down, Captain. Arm yourself,” he demanded, reaching down for his knife, but only feeling bare skin.

It was then that he remembered he was nude, and when he looked up to see the Captain as he frantically searched for his own weapon, did he realize they both were.

The Captain’s alarmed eyes met his. Shock still displayed on the pink face.

With a momentary lapse in judgement, the Soldier moved forward, disregarding his own vulnerable state in favor of surprising the Captain with an attack. He shoved the body further into the wall. The wood gave way a little bit, creating a large human-sized dent. Then his metal hand went to the pale neck, squeezed tightly, and lifted the struggling body off the floor so that his feet were left dangling.

The Captain let out a guttural choking sound, hands flying to the metal prosthesis to tear it off his skin. But he couldn’t. Not with his air supply being cut off, depleting the remaining strength in his limbs.

The Soldier was all but shaking with anticipation at having his enemy in his grasp. His lips curled into a vicious sneer, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. The man in his grasp was turning purple, and he was letting out the most beautiful strangled sounds he’d heard since…

“Please, Buck,” the man choked out. “Please…”

The metal fingers opened reflexively, and the Captain crumpled down to the stained carpet. The Soldier grasped his head in both hands and fumbled back.

_My mission is to eliminate the Captain. I must comply. Compliance will be rewarded._

“Steve…”

The Soldier let out a deafening cry. Hoarse and pained.

His legs moved on their own as he tried to blink away the frenzied voices in his mind, and before he realized it, found himself in the broken armchair with the missing rods. 

“Are you alright?” The Captain said, shuffling over to him. “Buck?”

The Soldier began to rock, hair nearly being pulled out by the roots from his strong and unyielding hold. 

Realizing this, the Captain stupidly inched closer and murmured words that would have been comforting to anybody else, but not to the Soldier. The Soldier could not be comforted. 

“Hey, you’re hurting yourself,” said the Captain, gently prying the hands away from his hair. The Soldier let him.

“Steve.”

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re gonna be fine.”

The Soldier would not stop rocking. Memories. Memories going back who knows how far, were sprouting in his head like weeds. Blond hair, blue eyes. Small. Then big. Army green to red and white stripes. Stars. The stars in Steve’s eyes when he––

“Stevie,” he said again, savoring the dimly familiar taste on his tongue. “I––wait.”

Cold. Ice. The Train. Falling. The electricity in his brain. It was also coming back. Eclipsing the image of a body hovering over him, hand stretched toward him, amidst swirls of white and gray. He couldn’t be saved. He remembered. He’d been allowed to fall into the river, only to have to pull himself up onto the bank, all the while agonizing pain ripped through his left side. His arm had been cleanly torn off.

“I fell.” He gasped, the air not reaching his lungs fast enough as he struggled to breathe. “I fell and no one came looking for me. I––”

There were tears in the Captain’s eyes now, blurring his ocean blues, like the fogged images the Soldier was now recalling. He rubbed a soothing hand up and down the Soldier’s flesh arm, hoping the action would be able to communicate all that words could not.

“You let me fall and didn’t look for me,” The Soldier sobbed. “You left me to die!”

“I––that’s not what happened, I swe––”

The Soldier didn’t let him finish. He brought his arm back and punched the Captain right in his face, sending him back against the mattress. He straddled him, drawing his arm back for another blow, and then another.

“You. Left. Me. For. Dead!”

The Captain brought his arms up to shield his face, but didn’t try to push him off.

“I, ughh, I’m sorry, Buck. I should have––” a pained groan, “looked for you.”

The Soldier wasn’t looking for excuses. His blood was beyond boiling and he wanted somebody to answer for his grief. Finally, he had someone to blame for the fucked up shit he’s had to go through. All this time he’d thought he’d only ever been an engineering project of Hydra’s. Now he knew he’d had something else in his life besides the pain and numbness. At one point he’d been happy, and this man, the Captain, had played a critical role in that. 

With one last blow, the Soldier finished his assault on the blond man’s face. 

He pulled away, his chest heaving with residual anger. 

The Captain turned his head and coughed up blood. One of his cheekbones was red and swollen, and there were gashes on his lips, his chin, and on his forehead. He looked terrible. 

Coming out of his haze, the Soldier felt momentary pity, and something else––shame, perhaps. Such a pretty face reduced to this, he thought. 

“What can I do to make it up to you,” the Captain murmured, drawing his attention. His eyes were now closed but he’d turned to face the Soldier. “I’ll do anything.”

The Soldier hesitated. 

Here he had his enemy underneath him… again. Subservient, and in pain, and offering to give him anything: what he wanted most. He could choose to end it all. Right here and now. No more chasing after lost memories, and no more doubt. He could close this long chapter in his life, at last, and escape the Captain, and Hydra. And finally be who he was meant to be. Without any attachments to the physical world to hold him back.

“Please, Buck,” the Captain insisted––no, _pleaded_. “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

The Soldier shuddered. 

He could have _anything._ Anything at all, and he didn’t doubt the Captain would try to pull down the moon for him if he asked. He should be thrilled, that he had some leverage over the man, but nothing that came to mind seemed like sufficient retribution. No good act or sentiment could recover all those lost years.

The Captain opened his eyes, and the Soldier dove into their depths, like a fish takes to water. There was a question that needed answers there, and a throbbing pulse in the Soldier’s head told him he was the one who had them. 

“I love you, Buck,” the Captain said, reaching up to cradle the side of the Soldier’s jaw. “I’ll always love you. ‘Til the end of the line.”

The Soldier pulled away instinctively. Here it was again, this word _’love’_.

The Soldier’s mind drifted to the night before. Remembered how open he’d let himself become with the smaller version of this man, and how he’d recklessly abandoned his mission––something he’d never done before––to indulge in the selfishness he was now just realizing had been a leftover mark from his past. The man he was before had been insatiable–– unafraid to chase life and all that it promised: pushed up skirts and heated skin in some dark corner of the dance halls he and Steve had frequented, the backbreaking labor of the factory job he had fought for that winter Steve got real sick, and Steve’s gentle smile when he came home with enough cash to cover that month’s electricity bill.

This Bucky had lived a pretty fulfilled youth, and had found some semblance of happiness in those short but colorful years, yet the Soldier detected a deep chasm in the poor fool’s soul. A pining for something he was never able to attain, no matter how much the young man had wanted to take hold of it and force it into the hollow space. A deep and passionate love that was true, but had no place in a world whose safety and freedom preceded all and any emotional claim his heart, and especially Steve’s, could make.

A love that demanded complete and absolute devotion, but was instead forced to the sideline where it eventually withered and lost got lost in itself. How was he to regain a love like that? Looking into Steve’s wet eyes, the Soldier felt he knew. Knew the answer they’d both been waiting nearly a century to uncover.

“Turn around,” the Soldier said, voice shaking with uncertainty. 

Without questions, the Captain––Steve––did as he was told. 

The Soldier lifted his hips just enough so that he could.

When the blond man lay chest down, the Soldier scooted lower to sit on the back of the Captain’s thighs. 

He trailed his fingers down the curve of the blond man’s spine, and watched curiously as the goose flesh rose with the coolness of his touch.

The skin wasn’t as sickly as it was all those years ago, but it was just as soft and unmarked. The Soldier bet that had to do with the version of the super soldier serum he’d been administered––the original. Not like the one given to him. No. The Soldier’s skin was marked all over with mementos of previous torture and bloodshed, and somehow he couldn't bring himself to lament this difference. Being able to feel the Captain’s perfect skin under his fingertips wasn’t something to be pitied for.

“Buck?”

“Shut up,”the Soldier said, but there was no heat behind the words.

The Captain sealed his lips regardless, and the Soldier kneed his way between the Captain’s legs, spread them apart, and felt the taut skin move with the muscles underneath. He wanted those muscles to squeeze on his waist as the Soldier took him from the front, but perhaps that was best reserved for a later time. What he wanted now was something else.

“On your knees,” he instructed, hands moving to the Captain’s hip to help him up.

The Captain was so good at taking orders, the Soldier thought, as he watched the man get on all fours. 

The Soldier tsk’ed, running the metal hand up the curve of the blond man’s spine, and stopping at the back of his neck. He shoved the body down forcefully, the Captain’s head hitting the mattress while his hips remained in the air. 

The Soldier pressed his chest to the Captains’ back, leaning in to purr at his ear: “I’m going to take you, quick and hard, and you’re going to let me.” 

The Captain nodded pathetically, eyes closed and mouth gaping. A light dusting of pink decorated his cheeks, and the Soldier couldn’t help but find the sight quite pretty.

“What do you say?” The Soldier pressed, taking a reddened ear between his teeth.

“Yes,” the Captain murmured, then swallowed. “P-please, _please_ , I want it.”

A soft kiss landed on the blond man’s face, before the Soldier pulled away from him and took the Captain’s asscheeks in both hands, spreading them lightly.

The Captain groaned softly, hands sliding across the mattress near his head to grip the sheets.

“That’s it, doll,” he said, the endearment slipping out before he could reel it in. “Keep your legs open, just like that.”

The Captain murmured a string of encouragements as the Soldier slicked his metal fingers and circled the swollen, abused flesh. The Soldier had had his doubts, but this was convincing proof that his most recent theory might not be so far-fetched after all. 

When the Asgardian fell from the sky, he and the Captain must have both been transported back in time to revisit a forgotten memory. For the Soldier it was WW2––a night when he and this man, Steve, had been involved. A happy memory. For the Captain, a memory having to do with the man he called Bucky. Somehow they both wound up at the same place and time.

It came to follow then, that the man the Soldier had been with the night before had in reality been Captain America, veiled by Asgardian magic to appear as the small and weak Steve Rogers. He supposed that to Steve Rogers, the Soldier would have appeared to him as Bucky.

He thought it incredible, albeit angering, that such a thing could be possible.

“Buck,” the Captain whined, pulling him out of his reverie.

Without delay, the Soldier worked a finger into the loosened hole, curling it at an angle that had the man beneath him shuddering with want.

“More,” the man begged, and the Soldier complied, shoving another finger into him, and then another. 

The Soldier didn’t feel the need to prepare him more than the minimum, seeing how the Captain was still loose from their activity a few hours prior. 

And apparently the Captain was insatiable. With a wanton moan he pushed back against the Soldier’s cool digits, grinding desperately to attain more friction.

The Soldier’s free hand raised immediately to fall on the Captain’s backside with an ear-splitting slap. The Captain whimpered.

“I didn’t say you could move.”

The rush came back to him then. The familiar power of strength and dominance. The simmering need to bring the Captain to tears. Despite knowing he had once loved this man, the Soldier doubted that this impulse was new. This desire hadn’t been programmed into him by Hydra, it had come from deep within the recesses of his mind. From Bucky.

“You want to feel me inside you, doll?” The Soldier drawled. 

The Captain nodded, eyes squeezed tight.

“Then stay still. If you move against my orders again, I’ll make sure you don’t come at all.” He slapped the flushed asscheek again for punctuation, drawing a quiet grunt from the blond.

When the Soldier had his dick slicked and ready, he directed it to the Captain’s waiting hole, and pushed in with one hard thrust.

In no time, the Soldier was drilling into the warm heat, relentlessly. He gripped the strong hips with both hands, digging into the flesh with blunt nails, as the man below him writhed and bellowed in the throes of passion. The Soldier wanted to smile.

“You’re so good for me,” he purred, hitting a particularly sensitive spot that nearly made the Captain cry. His rhythm turned brutal, unyielding as the Captain lost his breath and struggled to take in much needed oxygen. 

The Captain was so far gone that he hadn’t yet noticed he’d dug claw marks into the fabric beneath his fingers, shredding the bed sheet. 

With another punctuated thrust that rocked the Captain forward, the Soldier’s hand slithered around the blond man’s hip to take hold of his leaking dick. He gripped the base firmly, teasing the vein that ran on its underside with his index finger. 

“O-oh, Buck, _harder_.”

The Soldier used his metal hand to pull the Captain’s ass flush against his pelvis, and gyrated his hips slowly, agonizingly. Meanwhile, his other hand created a tight ring around the base, preventing the man’s release.

“Fuck,” the Captain growled, “don’t d-do that. I want to––“

The Soldier was close. He wanted to come inside the Captain, but he also wanted to take the man into his mouth and taste him.

The Captain’s hand tried to sneak its way down to loosen the fingers on his dick, but the Soldier growled his opposition, and it retreated quickly. 

“Please, I want to come,” the Captain cried, his lower lip trembled with pent up frustration, and tears welled up in the corners of his eyes.

The Soldier kissed them away, breathing warm air onto the wet skin. 

“Not yet, doll. I’ll let you come, but you have to hold on a bit longer.”

The Captain murmured a weak ‘yes’, and shivered as the Soldier straightened back up and gripped his hips once more to keep the Captain still as he pummeled into him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

The movements were ragged, their breaths hitching as they both approached their climax, but the Soldier wouldn’t let the man have his yet. 

With one last shove of his hips, the Soldier came inside the Captain, shuddering. Meanwhile, the blond groaned, vexed, as his release was suppressed by the Soldier’s hold, and he let out a pained whine.

The Soldier slipped out of the quivering body and rolled the Captain over, tracing with his eyes the faint, wet streaks that ran down his flushed face, and admiring his hooded gaze. He was beautiful. Perfectly wrecked.

“I want you,” the Soldier found himself saying, startling the Captain’s eyes open, and himself. However improbable this might have seemed only yesterday, the Soldier couldn’t bring himself to retract the words. In a much lower voice he amended his statement, “I want to _keep_ you.”

The Captain’s questioning gaze softened. “That’s good,” he said with a lick of his lips, voice still gravelly, “ because I want you to.” 

The Soldier felt a tug between them then, an invisible thread––old and sturdy–– that was bringing them closer. The same six words played in his mind, turning over like stones, each with its own unique and hidden message inscribed on the bottom surfaces. Each syllable reeling him deeper still. Begging him to decipher them. _’Til the end of the line._

He wanted to curl a finger around the phantom tendril, pluck it like one of the muted strings of his heart, and then pull gently until it stretched far enough to wrap tightly around them both. The feeling was uplifting, ethereal, and the best part, the Soldier thought, was that the Captain looked like he would let him. The glint in those eyes, exuding patience and reassurance, were symbols of his deep-seated love. It was in this moment that he understood this man had always been his.

“Steve,” he murmured, fully aware that this was the first time calling him by name, not counting his hazy mumbles during the panic-stricken hysteria from earlier. This time, the energy behind the utterance was peaceful. Revering. True.

No words were exchanged thereafter. The Soldier trailed his lips down the bigger man’s chest, and down his abs, tongue probing the dips between the muscles, and then wasted no time drawing the Captain’s rock solid dick into his waiting mouth. 

Steve tasted like sweat, and the dribbling pre-cum was bitter, but he didn’t let it deter him. He’d performed fellatio on a man before—on a handler who’d gotten too handsy with him in the earlier terms of the Soldier’s imprisonment by Hydra. The Soldier hadn’t been in a position to refuse, so he’d gone along with the misdeed, but gained no pleasure from it. With Steve it was different. 

He wanted this, more than anything.

“ _Buck_ ,” Steve moaned, the syllable elongated. His hands found purchase on the Soldier’s long hair, fisting the chocolate tresses as he was taken in deeper. 

The Soldier’s hands went to firmly wrap around Steve’s dick, and to push down on his pelvis, keeping him from trying to seek relief in the Soldier’s mouth, and from his release. They were going to do this at the Soldier’s pace––no ‘buts’ about it. Steve had been pleasured enough, now it was the Soldier’s turn.

He hummed around the dick in his mouth, the vibrations sending tremors up Steve’s spine. He felt the way the body underneath him trembled, the grip on his hair tightening only that much harder. The Soldier liked the feel of the hands in his hair-–loved the possessiveness with which the blond man reached for him. He reveled in knowing the desperation was mutual. 

He ran his tongue up the prominent vein of the Captain’s dick, and then wrapped his lips around the head, teasing the small slit with a graze of his teeth. Steve groaned, a fiery edge to his voice. 

The skin beneath the Soldier’s flesh hand was burning hot as well. He could feel Steve was so close. Ready to burst.

With a hollow of his lips and a particularly enthusiastic suck, the Soldier pumped the Captain one last time and relinquished his iron grip, an invitation for the blond man to come into his mouth. At last.

It was overwhelming. The Captain was big, there was no denying that, he just hadn’t been expecting his release to be equally as grand. He milked every last drop until there was nothing left to swallow, and was perfectly sated. 

Steve chuckled once he managed to get his breath back. “You’re like a kitten,” he said, the endearment evident in the smile he gifted to the Soldier. 

The Soldier moved up to encase the beautiful man in his arms, and kissed him softly, just a press of their lips to show his contentment. He’d never been given a pet name before. Nicknames, sure, been called slurs, of course. But nothing soft and sweet, like the words the Captain rewarded him with.

Steve pressed closer, wrapping strong arms around the Soldier’s waist and pulling him down. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” Steve said when he created some space between them. “Having you back, that is. Still feels like a dream.”

Bucky kissed him again, letting his lips meander past the corners of his lips, up his cheek, and over his eyelids. Soft and pleasant distractions. 

The last thing he wanted was to have a conversation with Steve about their precarious situation. He wasn’t sure if the man was yet aware of what had happened to them. There was no telling what would occur when the two were transported back to the future. Perhaps not knowing would be better, and less painful, if what followed were to be something worse. Something insupportable, like an indefinite separation.

“I have no intention of being apart from you,” the Soldier said, combing back the hair on the front of Steve’s head with his fingers. Steve sighed happily at the touch, the gentle rake of nails on his scalp. His eyelids fluttered.

“But,” he continued, his lips momentarily settling into a firm line. “If by any chance I go back to being the asset––that _thing_ ––I need you to promise you’ll stay away from me.”

Steve tilted his head, trying to get a better look at the Soldier’s face. Searching. “You know I can’t do that. I won’t,” he said, resolute.

The Soldier shouldn’t have expected any differently. “I know.”

“We’re going to get out of this together, okay? We’re going to be fine.” The earnestness in Steve’s voice warmed the Soldier, but it didn’t placate him.

“You’re a fool.”

“I guess not much has changed since we were kids, then,” he joked. 

The Soldier wished he knew with certainty what Steve meant. Earlier he’d only gotten a brief glimpse of his past, but the details were still foggy. There was so much he was missing––so much he would have to discover on his own. One thing was for sure, though. If Steve Rogers had been anything like the spitfire from the night before, the Soldier had no doubt in his mind he’d been an occasional nuisance to _Bucky_ too.

“Let’s not go anywhere today,” Steve said. “I’m still tired. Couldn’t get much sleep.”

This made the Soldier grin, mischievously. “I wonder why not.”

Steve’s laughter was beautiful. The pretty crinkle of his eyes, and the perfectly white smile.

“Hmm, I wonder,” Steve assented. 

The Soldier rolled off the pretty blond, and stretched his legs and arms, accidentally hitting Steve with his flesh elbow, and making him whine and utter a short ’hey’.

It got quiet as the Soldier started to regain perspective. “I’m sorry,” he said, the severity in his tone earning a quizzical look from Steve. “For hitting you.”

They both knew he wasn’t referring to just now.

Steve turned on his side and leaned on his elbow. He just looked at him for a moment, before saying, “You were upset. And I maybe deserved it, too,”

The Soldier grumbled something unintelligible. An objection of sorts.

At the time the Soldier had felt he deserved that and much more, and even now he felt like he had settled some score, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Steve, for all his flaws and mistakes, was still the light at the end of the tunnel. He would do anything if it meant being able to reach it–– _him_ , and stay there. Where he felt…human.

“I’m still sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. What happened to you, it wasn’t your fault.”

Then why did the Soldier still feel so guilty?

The things he was forced to do, all those assassinations, those missions, he might not have been in the right state of mind when they happened, but it was still him pulling the trigger. It was still him reporting back to Hydra—feeding them intel to further their evil agendas. If they hadn’t used him, then who? The other soldiers in the Winter Project were volatile, unruly and unsafe. It’d be years before they could get them to perform at his level. Without him, Hydra would have been crippled. He could have ensured that, had he been able to break free from their programming earlier. Even now, he doubted it was wiped out of him altogether. There was still that niggling voice in the back of his mind, reminding him to go back to base. Like a homing pigeon. It was telling him there would be consequences if he did not.

But he didn’t want to tell Steve all that. All he wanted was to relish these moments they had left, because as real as this all felt, there was also a very real chance it was only happening in their minds. 

“You’re going to be with me when we wake up,” he said. A silent question. A fearful one.

Steve plopped back down beside him and reached down for his hand, rubbing short patterns on the back with his thumb. The Soldier felt its weight––the assurance and security–– and its comfortable heat. Yes, he thought, closing his eyes. He would absolutely do anything for him.

He intertwined their fingers, tight. Sure. _Hydra be damned_.

Even if they were torn apart, he wouldn’t stop looking for Steve. He was certain of that. As certain as he knew Bucky would be there, somewhere in the Soldier’s head, making sure that he did.

“’Til the end of the line, Buck.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written smut in ages. 
> 
> ((how did I do?))
> 
> *shrinks and goes poof*


End file.
